Letters
by Spellinggirl
Summary: *UPDATED!* Foyle is in America and Sam has to adjust to a life without the war... and her job. She asks for advice and Foyle gives it willingly. Foyle/Sam friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is my first-ever story. Reviews are appreciated!

**Letters**

_Dear Sam,_

_ I'm in America. I tell you that because it's just about all I __can__ tell you at present. I'm going to have to save my stories for when I get back home. I'm quite busy at the moment, but when I get the chance, write me. Hastings seems farther away right now than it did when I would have to go up to London._

_ Speaking of London, have you heard from Andrew at all? He knows where I am, but not what I'm doing. If he shows up, please let me know. I'm not sure what he's up to at the moment and I'd like to. Old habit, I guess. After the war, he was being taken care of at Oxford, and after Oxford he was being looked after by the RAF. Andrew is a bit of a free spirit, but you already know that._

_ Sam, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. You're engaged to be married. Police work is over for you, so don't get involved in any murders. I think you've been through that one too many times._

_ Christopher Foyle_

_Dear Sir,_

_ Are you doing really wild things in America? Are you breaking the law? Have you gotten in any more chases? I'm so eager to know because I've followed your advice and stayed away from murders and crime in general. Frankly, I miss it. It's a bit of a bore, doing proper young woman-things._

_ The boarding house blowing up just about finished Adam's ideas about running his own business. He's got a job in an office now, processing insurance claims. He's incredibly bored, but I think he's grateful to have a job. I wish I did. Well, that's not REALLY the whole truth… I have got a job, but it's in a toy shop. It sounds tame and it is. Even though my other jobs were innocent enough (librarian, housekeeper, boarding house manager), I still managed to get involved in plenty of scandal! Maybe someone at the toy shop will come in with blood on their clothes or something!_

_ Oh dear, I've already broken my promise to you, in spirit if not in deed. I'm terribly sorry. I'm sure nothing at all will happen._

_ Sir, this will sound terribly forward of me, but could I ask you some questions about marriage? Adam wants to wait six months so he can get back on his feet and I'm fine with that, but I'm worrying about things already. I know marriage isn't all tickety-boo and crumpets, no matter how perfectly lovely the wedding is. If you could just give me some general advice, even, that would be really fantastic._

_ Sincerely yours,_

_ Sam Stewart_

_P.S. Andrew hasn't rung or written AT ALL. I'm not sure what to make of that._

_P.P.S. If you don't want to help me out on the whole marriage thing, that's fine and I'm sorry for asking._

_P.P.P.S. But it would be absolutely smashing if you would._


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Sam,_

_I REPEAT: DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID. All those times I told you to wait in the car were for your own good. I know you're wondering (probably hoping) if I miss police work. Well, I don't. But that's not to say I'm not doing something of the sort here in America… there, now I've said too much. If you're really still dying to get involved with crime, I suggest a novel. Or the papers. As you know, just because the war is over doesn't mean everyone's suddenly decided to adhere to the law._

_I've just realized there IS something you could do: investigative work regarding one Andrew Foyle. You must have some idea of where he is. If you get the chance, check in on him, will you? No rush, just something to put my mind at ease._

_Sam, the last thing I expected in your letter was a request for marriage advice. Are you sure you want to ask me? I've been a widower for so long. But I haven't forgotten one day of married life, I assure you. What sort of things do you want to know?_

_I can tell you one thing: marriage is about compromise. You're going to discover some things about your spouse that you don't like, and your spouse will realize that something you do is irritating. Even if you think you've got Adam all figured out, Sam, I guarantee you have not found everything. And he may be too much of a gentleman to admit it (and I hope he WOULD be), but he's going to make the same discoveries about you. I remember this very distinctly from my early days of marriage. Rosalind absolutely detested it that I didn't comb my hair right away when I got up. Yes, it's silly— that's the point! They're never serious faults. But it bothered her and she finally told me one day. So we made a deal: I'd comb my hair sooner if she wouldn't worry so much about what I look like. Women may say they outgrow dolls, but they really just end up wanting to dress their husbands._

_Christopher Foyle_

_P.S. For the record, I'm not saying I find any such faults in you. Write again soon._

_Dear Sir,_

_Lovely advice! Thank you! I think I've beaten you to the punch, though. Adam does the most irritating things sometimes! He clicks his teeth when he's thinking (or nervous, occasionally I can't tell the difference). Aside from being dreadful manners, you've got to think it will be detrimental to his dental health. And his job! I know he's bored stiff at it, but he's making money. Isn't that what matters? After all, it's only temporary until he can find something more permanent and we can afford to get married. But he complains about it ever so much until I want to stuff my ears full of wax and not listen! As you said, I'm sure we'll find a compromise. Eventually…_

_But really, it is the most ridiculous thing. I work in a toy shop, for goodness' sake! I sell brightly-coloured trains and books about baby animals. FOR A LIVING! Perhaps I should give Adam a bit of a reality check._

_It's just that I SO dislike compromise! As you know, I do quite enjoy having my own way. I find it's usually the right way, in the end! Isn't it?_

_Here's something that won't entirely disappoint you. I'm going up to London next week to see one of my old school chums. I'll be staying with her, and while I'm up there, I'll have a look about for Andrew. I think I may know where he's hiding out. Just like you said, "investigative work"! I'm actually rather excited._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Sam Stewart_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Dad,_

_Nice, very nice. Sending Sam to do your dirty work is exactly the sort of thing you'd do. I thought you'd retired from police work, but I guess that part of you will always apply when it comes to your son._

_I'm just kidding, Dad. It was wonderful to see Sam again. I shouldn't stay away so much. She seemed awfully pleased to see me. I know you've got that look on your face now, and I just want to say that maybe you're right and maybe you're not. For once in my life, I can be mysterious and keep you guessing! It's quite fun, actually._

_I've got a desk job with the RAF now. It's not as dull as you'd think; I do get to talk to people now and again. Mostly I write reports on ex-servicemen: what they're doing now that the war is over, how they view their time in the RAF, and what they think they accomplished. Sometimes I have to conduct the interviews myself and meeting these men in person is amazing. I thought I did some exciting stuff in the war, but these chaps experienced the most incredible things. I'd tell you some of the stories if I could, but the best ones are all still considered state secrets. Disappointing, I know._

_Now that I think about it, I feel really guilty for ignoring Sam. I think I'll write her now and apologize. I'd rather she didn't hold a grudge against me. I may have flown against the Luftwaffe, but a woman's cold shoulder is another thing entirely!_

_Andrew_

_P.S. I'll write to you too. I'm sorry for not doing so sooner._

_Dear Sam,_

_Whatever you said to Andrew, I'm impressed! He's sent me several letters already (that's his old guilty conscience at work). He said he would write to you as well and apologize for ignoring you, and I'm sure he's done that as well._

_I'm happy he's still with the RAF. I think he likes an excuse to wear a uniform and call people "Sir" frequently. The structure is good for him. I know I spoiled him when he was younger, but it's so easy to do with only children! I mean, you're not spoiled, but it's quite common._

_Speaking of spoiled, it seems like all children in America are only children because they whine more than any English child I've ever met. I made the mistake of walking past a primary school the other morning during drop-off time and… well, let's just say my hearing hasn't fully recovered. The lungs on such small creatures impress me._

_I know your interest is piqued so I'll tell you what I can. I'm in suburban America, but I have been in several big cities. People seem generally astounded that an Englishman would ever leave England and they ask a lot of questions. That's something I really don't like: the questions seem endless! I've asked millions of questions in my lifetime, and answering them is a change I very much detest. I tell everyone I meet that I'm on holiday. They laugh when I say that. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, and asked a young woman why she thought it was funny. "Here, we call it vacation, sir! A holiday is a day like Christmas or Easter or Flag Day or even Super Bowl Sunday!" Then she giggled more._

_Sam, do you know what Super Bowl Sunday is?_

_And you should see this sport they play here… it's called baseball and it's obviously a copy of cricket, but a twisted and perverted version of cricket. At that primary school I went past, I didn't see one single football._

_I shouldn't judge them so harshly. They seem to have turned out all right for the last 100-plus years. Even if they are formerly-rebellious colonies._

_That was incredibly stuffy and uptight of me and I can't believe I wrote it. I guess it must be my feelings towards one American in particular. Disregard it._

_Here's some advice that I see reminders of everywhere in big cities: don't fight with your husband in public. Cities tend to have more poor people obviously, but to me, it's dreadfully impolite to yell at each other in front of other people. I anticipate this will be especially difficult for you, a woman who speaks her mind. I admire that quality in you, but remember your surroundings. Chastising your husband in crowded settings reeks of a mother scolding her child, and it's embarrassing for you both._

_Now I realize that most of my advice so far has been fairly doom-and-gloom and that's wrong of me. You're young and impressionable (yes, you are). Now I'll tell you something that might make you feel better. Marrying Rosalind was the best thing I ever did and the years I was married to her were the happiest of my life. And I got a wonderful son out of the deal too (despite his sometimes-philandering and often-aggravating ways). I can't promise that any match you make will be as happy as mine, but I prefer to hope for the best: that it will be even happier._

_Now I've got to dash. I'll leave you with this: I MIGHT (that's might in CAPITAL LETTERS FOR A REASON) be home for Christmas. _

_Christopher Foyle_

_P.S. Who am I kidding? The perennially-optimistic Sam will have skipped over the MIGHT._


	4. Chapter 4

I'm back! I apologize for my almost-year of absence. I just finished my freshman year of college and I got too involved on campus! Silly me. Anyway, in my spare time, I'm re-watching all of Foyle's War and it motivated me to keep writing this. Who else is excited that the series is coming back next year? I FREAKING AM. Without further ado, the chapter! *Cue majestic music* 

Dear Andrew,

It's nearly December and looking more and more likely that I'll be home for Christmas. Don't count on it, though. I'll let you know when I'm absolutely certain, but it seems that my business here will soon be concluded. How do you like your job? Somehow, I just can't see you doing desk work. That may be because I saw very little of it when you were a student, in school in Hastings… or at Oxford! But I don't much feel like chastising you for past immaturity at the moment. The holiday spirit must have come early.

America is very, very cold. I'm not sure whether it's Christmas cheer or longing for home, actually. I do hope you'll keep me abreast of any goings-on I should be aware of in London. International news here isn't much up to my standards, but it seems like there's always something happening here to keep the press occupied enough.

However, the press on those military tribunals in Germany wasn't hard to miss. Finally, the Nazis are going to get some of what they deserve. It's not ALL they deserve, of course, but that kind of justice is something neither you, nor I, nor any policeman or politician on earth can decide.

What would you like for Christmas? You know I've never been good at guessing things you want so I'm going to dispence with secrecy altogether. Since I'm in a foreign country, would you like something American? No requests for weapons or planes, please; but I do want to know. All I can think of right now is a jumper or a book. And if you are any son of mine, the jumper won't be to your liking and the book will be too dull for you. Tell me as soon as you think of something.

Dad

...

P.S. On second thought, I ought to just buy myself a jumper, regardless of what you want. I'm old and cold and I dearly miss good English wool.

Dear Andrew,

Just a short note, I'm afraid. Something dreadful has happened: Adam has broken off our engagement. I felt quite upset about it for some time, but now I just feel alone, even with my parents. Do, please, come down for Christmas on, say, the 21st… that is, if you haven't got any other plans. My parents are ever so eager to meet you. I think they don't believe I have any friends. At the moment, that feels just about right.

Write back as quick as you can with your answer. I hope London is treating you well.

Sam

...

Dear Sam,

Of course I'll come for Christmas! It's not like I've got urgent plans to spend time with their majesties the King and Queen…

I'm dreadfully sorry to hear about Adam's decision. Never liked him much, to be straight with you. I always thought he was an odd chap. Bollocks, that sounded rather crass. I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when I come down, if you like. It's very generous of your parents to invite me to stay, so please tell them I appreciate it very much. The 21st sounds fine.

There may be one problem, though… I'm not sure whether my dad's been in touch lately, but there seems to be a possibility that he'll be home in time for Christmas. But he said not to get my hopes up, and he'll let me know as soon as it's settled. Actually, he probably told you. But in case he didn't, now you know. If he will be back in time, we'll do something else. You could come over to our house and cook supper, for instance.

Fondly,

Andrew

P.S. Sam, I'm no good at the niceties of life. What does a houseguest bring as a present? Fruitcake? Yorkshire pudding? Tea leaves? Help!

...

Dear Mr Foyle,

It's all settled! Andrew is coming down to stay with me and my parents for Christmas on the 21st. He's being jolly organized about this whole holiday business, in fact. If you get back in Hastings in time, he says he'll change his plans and just stay home with you. He suggested an alternative: I come over and cook for you both (presumably leaving my parents alone for the holidays). What a charming young man your son is!

Speaking of charming (or not-so-charming) young men, Adam broke off our engagement. He said some utter rubbish: "We're totally incompatible… we don't see eye-to-eye… we're very different people and we want different things…" etc. etc. etc. It's all very confusing, sir. I'm ashamed to say that I lost my temper and shouted at him. Then he shouted at me and called me a goose. He said I'm silly and he can't bear to be with me. I told him I couldn't bear to be with him, because if I'm a goose, I need a gander, and since he thinks he's so high and mighty, we AREN'T going to make a good couple. And then I stormed out of his house. But I forgot my mittens, so I had to go back and get them. That was rather humiliating.

Since then, he wrote me a note of apology, but I'm not quite sure it changes anything. Andrew says we'll have a good talk about it when he comes to stay. It'll be wonderful to talk to someone my own age. My parents were very sympathetic, but there's only so many hugs and kisses I can take.

As we don't know your estimated date of arrival back in Mother England, I'll close by just saying I hope you'll return soon.

Sam


End file.
